Posted on

T H E C A L E N D E R

 

Days turned into nights, I continued to stand still
and pondered why time flies so fast?
I traveled through my memory,
I realized that nothing ever lasts.
Each day passes by, one after the other,
some have a hidden purpose
and some are utterly reasonless,
Some days are indelible and some
just leave us with an uncertain guess.

Some days are obliterated and
some days become your heartbeat,
Some days you ne’er want back and
some days you again want to meet.
Some days you spend whimpering and
some day you titter more,
Some days you’re silent and tender and
some days you want to holler and roar.

A calendar is not just a paper with dates and month,
it’s a free stub to moments we are in love with,
How bewildering that a titchy paper holds the moment
that we rue and moments we are absurdly blithe with.
A calendar contains aphorism that the days that are gone,
will never recur back,
We are feart to let go these moments,
we keep these moments with us in our memory sack.

Moments are never numbered,
it’s the jollity that it gives
which builds you further,
The solitary who understands what’s faded
will never reappear again, isn’t named
no-hoper but known as a learner.
You only reminisce the moments that
makes your heart skip a beat why? I wonder
Because your mind is memento with
some aesthetic moments in your heart calendar.

-saumya puri